Instinctive Male (11 page)

“You big, dumb, goofy—” Ellie said as she reached for him.

Mikhail caught her to him, lifting her off her feet, holding her so that their eyes were level. “You are not your mother or your sister, who would desert or sell a child for their own welfare. You are not like Paul.”

Ellie fought tears; she’d battled a lifetime of fear that she would be exactly like her family. She’d fought Paul’s cold ridicule, his derision that she wasn’t the son he wanted. She’d grown brittle, tough and wary of genuine emotion; she naturally reacted sword for sword. “I could be. I like having my way.”

He was giving her too much: warmth, tenderness, forgiveness. And she had hurt him, just as he’d been hurt before.

Mikhail kissed her lightly, his expression tender. “And I like having mine.”

He eased into a big chair, holding her on his lap. His large, gentle hands stroked her body, caressing her thighs and breasts. “I missed you last night. How do you feel this morning? I mean, I did not want to hurt you. You are so small—”

His touch trembled now, seeking beneath her sweater, just as her body softened and ached and warmed….

Mikhail was very warm, and aroused, frowning slightly as he concentrated on cupping her breast, running his thumb across the tip. She wanted to dive into him, to soothe and comfort and take at the same time. Ellie didn’t know how to express her emotions; she just knew they fluttered and tingled inside her, deeper than she had ever felt, terrifying and yet fascinating her. “You haven’t hurt me, Mik
hail. Um, could you please do whatever you’re thinking about?”

“I want to give you time,” he whispered rawly as he leaned her back to kiss her throat. “But I also want to give you something else.”

His mouth cruised open and hot against her skin as he eased away her sweater and bra. The hunger in his kiss became her own, and when his mouth suckled gently, his hand moving inside her slacks, caressing her, Ellie felt the warming of her blood, the storm swirling in her body, the rhythm sweeping her away into the fire as she gripped Mikhail’s shoulders, her nails digging in to anchor the surging tide flowing over her.

His lips muffled her startled, keening cry, and his hands gentled her down to earth again. She rested against him, spent by her passion. He was still hard beneath her, his eyes glittering, his features taut with desire and tenderness. She doubted that she could move from him; her bones seemed to be melting inside her. Mikhail was very thorough. “That wasn’t exactly fair, Mikhail. I’ll have to pay you back. But right now, you’ve done your deed.”

“So have you, apparently. It is quite a sight to watch, you blooming with my touch. I can only await the pleasure, though I cannot guarantee all those fascinating little sounds,” he murmured dryly.

Ellie prepared to leave his office, then leaned against the door and looked at him. Mikhail understood the sensual, warm hunger that ran through her now—because it ran through him, also. “Hold that thought,” he said softly, “or stay and make it come true.”

With a smile that said she intended to do her best when they wouldn’t be disturbed, Ellie left his office. Moments later, Edna entered Mikhail’s office.

“Lovely day, isn’t it, Edna?”

Edna turned to the window and noted the dreary, chilling rain. “Oh, absolutely lovely.”

Mikhail’s smiled as he slashed through paperwork, a man
eager to be done. His tie was tucked into his jacket pocket, and his dress shirt was tossed over a chair. Life was good, he decided, thinking of the satiny bra beneath his shirt, and the way Ellie had quivered upon his lap, flushed and warm and pleasuring him.

“Lovely day, Mikhail,” Edna repeated lightly as the storm outside began to claw at the window’s glass.

He interrupted his humming, scanned the day outside and smiled. “Perfect.”

That afternoon, Mikhail stood rigidly aside as the future bride’s crying mother left Ellie’s office. Ellie glimpsed Mikhail’s momentary horrified expression as Mrs. Hightower grabbed him and backed him against the wall. She sobbed against his chest. “You’re Mikhail Stepanov, aren’t you?”

“Yes. I’m certain everything will be fine,” he said stiffly, obviously uncomfortable.

“My little girl. I’m losing my little girl,” the woman sobbed as Ellie came to stand at the door, her expression amused.

Mikhail shot her a narrow warning look that indicated the woman pressed against him. He wasn’t in the mood for mourning mothers, or women who just wanted to hold a firm-bodied man.

Mikhail did look very fine, rawly masculine, grim, uncomfortable and in need of rescuing.

Ellie shook her head and grinned, enjoying the situation of Mikhail asking her for help. He was on his own. Or she could save him for a price….

“I was just telling Mrs. Hightower how the reception can be held near the pool, if she likes—”

Mikhail frowned at Ellie. He had given her strict orders that there would be no wedding cake in the Amoteh’s pool water, no broken champagne glasses on the tile floors.

Over the head of the sobbing woman who was actually holding him tightly, Mikhail’s gaze slowly went down Ellie’s body.

Ellie hurried to explain her unusual combination of clothes. “Mrs. Hightower understands that I was working with swimsuits when she arrived—trying to understand the sizing. She said she doesn’t mind that I’m dressed like this.”

Those sea-green eyes darkened, taking in the gray suit jacket over her midnight blue maillot bathing suit and the triangular pareo tied at her hips, the fringes brushing her legs. He stared at her feet in the flip-flops and then slowly repeated his journey upward to her lips. The sensual heat inside Ellie rose immediately; she could almost feel him holding her, within her—
linked….
More than their bodies had touched, and that brief moment had terrified her.

For a brief moment, Ellie knew that he wanted to pick her up and carry her away. The gesture would be primitive, possessive and pure Mikhail. The impact of his raw sensuality took away her breath and warmed her body, quivering along her skin as though his lips were skimming—

Not that she was a passive partner in his arms. Mikhail called forth a certain savagery within her, the need to claim him….

Locked in Mikhail’s dark sensual stare, her blood heated, pounded through her. She ached for the touch of his hands, for his lips, for his breath curling over her skin.

But more than that, she ached for the sense that with him, she was finally home.

She struggled back to the business matter at hand. “Of course, the reception will close the pool to guests at that time of year, so there will be an extra charge.”

Mrs. Hightower nuzzled Mikhail’s chest and he saw that he was at Ellie’s mercy. She had picked the perfect time for blackmail. “I see no problem with that,” he said as lightly as his frustration would allow.

Ellie beamed and reached for Mrs. Hightower, easing her away. The woman was still reaching for Mikhail as Ellie stood in front of him. She wrapped her arm around Mrs. Hightower’s shoulders and guided her away from Mikhail.
“Let me show you the rooms, Mrs. Hightower. I’m certain the wedding party will be well pleased. We’re having several weddings this summer and each one will be very special. Amoteh has a lovely little white church, or you might want to use our facilities for the wedding. Our ballroom is equipped to hold a really big crowd, but we do have manicured gardens and an outside ceremony would be lovely.”

Relieved that the woman was moving away from him, Mikhail slapped the file he had been holding against his thigh. Ellie’s flurry of proposals included those tennis and golf pros that he had already refused.

But then, thinking was difficult when Ellie’s shapely backside was swaying elegantly, the fringe a seduction. He could almost feel those slender feet smoothing his calves as her legs cradled his body, moving against him. He could almost hear those soft little cries, taste her—

Mikhail realized that Jarek was standing beside him. “So is everything working out with Ellie?” Jarek asked lightly.

“Mmm. She’s sweet really. Very skilled at handling difficult situations. Smart…smells like wildflowers, soft—she’s got the cutest little girl smile when she’s trying to get her way….” Mikhail turned to see Jarek’s wide grin. Mikhail had done his share of teasing Jarek as he pursued Leigh and now it was his brother’s turn to repay the favor. “Lay off.”

“Did she tell you about her plans to start marketing Stepanov lemon oil polish? Mom and Ellie were working on the promotion earlier. Get ready for a furniture oil sampler to be added to the Amoteh’s bath and body products.”

Mikhail groaned and left in the wake of his brother’s roaring laughter.

“A stone path would be more picturesque for weddings than the heavy timber walkway in the garden. And a koi pond is a must. You could use the coins thrown in it for wishes for a charity.” Ellie braced herself against the wind
sweeping over the golf course as she argued with Mikhail three days later.

The wind riffled through his hair as he scowled down at her. “More pool cleaning bills.”

“Super-size goldfish and good fortune, Mikhail. No outdoor wedding is complete without a stone walkway, a rose garden, a trellis for portraits and a goldfish pond.”

Locked in his budget and manager mode, Mikhail was never more tempting, a real challenge to get to the passionate man beneath, Ellie thought. Because she had to tease him, she batted her lashes and cooed, “You know I’m right, Mikie.”

Mikhail’s snort said he differed, but there was that dark gleam in his eyes that said he enjoyed the slight flirtation. “You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”

She felt strong and good and fiercely clean. “Immensely.”

“Good.”

The sunlight tangled between them as Mikhail reached to smooth the windblown strand from her cheek. “That’s good,” he repeated quietly, gently. “You’re good at what you do—smoothing potential wrinkles, working with difficult wedding planners, organizing social dinners and events. That’s what you did, wasn’t it? Moved in to soothe whatever friction Paul created with his bullying? You picked up, delivered and eased any tension in his business and his private relationships. You were the linchpin in your family, moving between Paul and Hillary. Always Hillary. This must be terribly difficult for you, fighting a sister you raised and one that you still love.”

Ellie swallowed tightly as a myriad of bitter memories swept through the pine-scented wind. “Paul paid me well. I arranged his parties, chauffeured and entertained his business associates, and he paid me. You know him, Mikhail. It was business, not that I was his beloved daughter.”

“You could have left at any time, but you didn’t—because you loved Hillary.”

“She was ten years younger. Her mother left immediately after her birth. Of course I loved her.”

“Of course,” Mikhail agreed softly. “I have friends in Paul’s business circle, and I made a few calls to see why someone as good as you would have ruined a business deal that was almost cinched. You’re far too good to let go of prime information at a cocktail party that could possibly botch a big real estate deal. Hillary was tipsy at the party and angry with Paul. She deliberately found the potential seller and told him that after the property was purchased, Paul was going to sell off what he didn’t need at a multi-million-dollar profit. You covered for her, didn’t you? In that time and in others, so that Paul wouldn’t disinherit her. You knew he needed you to cover for him, glossing over his roughshod techniques, so you stepped in to protect Hillary. But when Tanya came, you knew that you had to act.”

Ellie fought tears, tangled by the painful past. “I’d rather not replay this whole mess, Mikhail.”

He took her hand to his face, pressing it there with his own calloused one. “Know that I care. Know that I am here.”

Mikhail stood in the Stepanov showroom, watching the women in the parking lot below. He cuddled the infant in his arms and kissed Katerina’s curls. “If your father wasn’t in the kitchen, wooing Georgia into making a surprise dinner for your mother, I’d be down there with Ellie.”

But as a very private man who locked his past away, he knew that Ellie might not want him at her side. Mikhail rocked Katerina against him, and admired the woman he loved. “Of course I love her. Of course, Katerina. But we are in a storm, and she fears for her child. Now is not the right time.”

While Paul hadn’t made his move, Hillary had arrived in a bright red SUV with a heavily muscled woman in a sweat suit.

Clearly arguing, Hillary’s expression was hard and fierce,
while Ellie’s pale face was rigid, her hair flying around her. The diamonds on Hillary’s hand flashed in the sunlight as she slapped Ellie’s face, and the muscular woman moved in to hold Ellie’s arms.

Mikhail was on the move immediately, easing Katerina into Jarek’s arms as he passed. Jarek skillfully placed the infant into the soft carrying sack in front of him, tucking her blankets around her. He held her close, protectively, a father comfortable with nurturing his child.

“Call the folks,” Mikhail said. “Tell them to keep Tanya inside and I would appreciate you being there, too.”

“Done,” Jarek said firmly, and checked Katerina’s blankets before leaving the resort.

Outside, Mikhail moved quickly toward the scene where Hillary was screeching, “Where is she? You tell me right now, Ellie. I’m taking her.”

The sisters were alike in appearance, but Hillary’s harsh lifestyle showed in the bitterness of her mouth, in the glitter of her heavily mascaraed eyes. The smell of alcohol bit into the fresh salt air as she turned toward Mikhail, who was quickly walking toward them. “You. Daddy will take care of you. He’s making plans, so you’d better give me my daughter right now.”

Mikhail fought the fury inside him and stared at the woman holding Ellie. She frowned and slowly released Ellie. “We came for the girl,” she said.

He placed his arm around Ellie and she shrugged him away, her eyes lashing at him. “I can handle this.”

There was blood on her cheek, a tiny slash from Hillary’s ring as she turned back to her sister. “I’m working here, Hillary. I needed a job and I have one. Tanya is well and happy. That’s all there is to it.”